


vinegar and lemon

by tia37



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tia37/pseuds/tia37
Summary: In a small bathroom in the Exisal hangar, Momota spends his free time scrubbing the blood from his clothes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fic that's not saiouma/oumasai????? Wow
> 
> Spoilers up to chapter 5. Y'all know what that means.
> 
> Here's your Christmas present. Kept this in my drafts just for you. /finger guns

Even before Momota was officially accepted into astronaut training, he would wake up at five in the morning and start his training routine, running laps around the compound and doing some weight training before taking a quick shower and reviewing subjects relevant to his astronaut training while munching on a hearty breakfast. Some days it was quantum physics, some days it was engineering. Some days he read and reread the different planets and stars that had already been discovered, distantly wondering if any human would ever set foot on it.

After being accepted into astronaut training, he found himself flipping through English and Russian books most mornings. Momota had always been proficient in the language of numbers and physics, of engines and machines, but he had a hard time grasping the subtle nuances of another language. It was tough work, but Momota was willing to endure whatever it took as long as he made it to space. English speakers had a phrase for that,  _no pain no gain_. The equivalent saying in Russian was  _Без труда́ не вы́тащишь и ры́бку из пруда́_. It was easy enough to say, but he kept mixing up the different 'b's and 'n's when he wrote the language.

(His senior confessed that none of the Japanese astronauts could write Russian very well, they just made sure they were proficient enough to listen, speak and read it. Momota vowed to be the first to master Russian in its entirety.)

So when he woke up to the morning announcement stating that it was eight in the morning, he groaned and buried his head in his hands. Eight?! That was not enough time to take a shower, let alone to familiarize himself with the structure of the International Space Station.

When he got out of bed, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He groaned again and clutched his head, but it did nothing to relieve the pounding headache. Just an off day from being kidnapped and stuck in a weird place, he told himself.

He was Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars. There was no way this could get him down.

* * *

In a way, being stuck in the prison school was a lot like being in space.

For one, they were stuck in a limited area with only each other for company. Any breakdown in communication could be disastrous, with the slightest misunderstanding able to spark off a murder. They were also unable to leave in the foreseeable future.

The only thing that kept them together was the Ultimate Pianist, Akamatsu Kaede. She drew people to her with her natural charisma, even being able to coax the shy detective out of his shell. Momota thought that if they had her they would be able to maintain the status quo in the prison school, time limit or not. If she was not so enamored with the shy detective, he would have certainly expressed some form of interest in her.

He admired her. Charisma was something that some people were born with, whether they liked it or not. Momota had to work for his charisma, practicing schooling his facial expressions in front of the mirror for hours on end after the other trainees complained that he was too unnatural, too focused on training to form bonds with them. He had to actively step out of his comfort zone to talk to others, and though he was initially disgruntled at the lack of focus on his training he quickly realized the importance of communication. He vowed never to make the same mistake again.

Akamatsu, however, just had to plead and smile sweetly and everyone was under her spell. Of course everyone had their limits - the Death Road of Despair was a good example - but most of the time Akamatsu just batted her eyes prettily and everyone would follow her lead. 

At first, Momota thought it had something to do with her talent. Music was a universal language after all; everyone, regardless of language, could be brought together by music. Maybe her charm was related to her talent of being the Ultimate Pianist? She promised to teach him how to play the piano; she even said she might take the astronaut exams to play the piano in space. Momota respected her dedication to spreading her love for music and the piano to everyone, aliens included. Maybe, just maybe, if Akamatsu was the one leading them there would be no murders-

Then Akamatsu murdered Amami and everything went to hell.

* * *

The first time Momota vomited blood all over his clothes and bedsheets, he sought Tojo's help. Though he felt a little embarrassed to let a girl into his room, it was necessary. As the Ultimate Maid, she would have experience in washing all sorts of stains, and she would value privacy enough to not disclose his condition to other people. 

She listened to him ramble on while changing his bloody bedsheets, nodding in between. When she realized Momota was done speaking, she replied. "You need to stay alive, Momota-kun," she said, fanning out the crisp, freshly laundered bedsheets and placing them on his bed. "Since Akamatsu-san's death, you're the one holding us together."

Momota did not feel like that though. He felt like his efforts were middling in comparison to Akamatsu's, that Angie was more responsible for the peace stabilizing them, but he shook those thoughts from his head. Negative thoughts had no place in his mind. If Tojo believed in him, he believed in himself.

He held a thumbs up in front of his face, grinning as he did so. "And you'll stay alive to wash my clothes for me, yeah?"

Tojo looked at him with an unreadable expression. She took his bloody clothes from him and turned away. "I like to use vinegar and lemon," she responded. "Though baking soda works wonders as well."

Contrary to popular belief, Momota was not dumb. He knew exactly the implications of Tojo's behavior and that statement: she did not expect to survive. Momota did not understand why; she was well-liked by every single student, even Ouma respected and listened to her. Of all the students, she would be one that no one would want to kill because she was so integral to their daily lives. Or maybe that was why she believed she would not survive? It was a possibility.

Momota was not used to dealing with possibilities. He was used to dealing with absolutes, in the ways of physics and mathematics and calculable known quantities. Space may have been an unknown, but it was a quantifiable unknown. There were theories that were used to describe space, but even those theories had to be proven mathematically before they could be called theories. Outside the field of science, theories were more like guesswork. His theory that Tojo did not expect to survive was just that - a theory. In the end, he chose to believe in Tojo, that she would find the will to survive.

The next day, Hoshi was found dead.

* * *

 

Momota had long resigned himself to never taking a romantic partner. He heard stories from his seniors about failing marriages because the astronauts spent too much time in space, leaving devastated spouses behind. It was even reported in the news once a few years back that the women who were left behind turned to vice and drugs. His grandparents were disappointed that the Momota family line would end with him, but they loved him and accepted his decision. 

And he genuinely thought it would, until he met Harukawa Maki.

Initially, Momota brushed it off as a crush. Despite swearing off women to fulfill his dream, he did still feel attracted to them. When she fell out of the neighboring locker a few seconds after he did, he was immediately enamored by her beauty. He offered her a hand and introduced himself, surprised to hear that she was also an Ultimate. They separated after they left the classroom to explore the area and found that the school was filled with fourteen other Ultimates, all brought to the prison school against their will.

Even as he introduced himself to them one by one, he could not get his mind off the enigmatic girl. The Ultimate Child Caregiver, huh? He imagined her being surrounded by children, her cold demeanor thawing a little when she saw the smiles of the children she took care of. And maybe one day she would bear Momota a child, that he could show to his grandparents and make them proud-

Momota slapped himself mentally. He did not want to reduce her to some kind of baby-making machine. She was her own person and he respected that.

His illusions were shattered when Ouma revealed her true talent - Harukawa Maki, the Ultimate Assassin. That should have put Momota off believing in her, but it did not. Instead, he found himself even more drawn to her, inviting her to train with him and Shuichi at night. He told her to face her own demons just like he did with Shuichi, and he genuinely believed she would.

When Harumaki found out about his chronic illness, she walked him back to his room and promptly put him to bed. He could see why she chose the Ultimate Child Caregiver as her cover title; she was, at the very least, proficient in taking care of people. She undressed and dressed him in fresh clothes with little shame (on her part, Momota fought the urge to cower but he was _Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars_ , it would take more than being naked around a beautiful girl to bring him down) and when he woke up, his room had been thoroughly cleaned and his bloody clothes washed.

As the Russians said,  _Любовь зла, полюбишь и козла_. Love is evil, you may fall in love with a goat. But to Momota, Harumaki was no goat. She was poison in his veins, seeping through every cell in his body and claiming him as hers. She was the antidote to his troubles, a healing potion that soothed his body and soul and everywhere in between.

Or maybe it was more accurate to say that she was a drug. She made the pain in his throat and the weight in his chest go away when she was around but when she left, it always came back in full force, and with each progressing dose it got worse. He was getting addicted to her, and he knew when he separated from her for good the pain would be all-compassing.

And the best part? She never knew the intoxicating effect she had on him.

* * *

Shuichi was another person who intrigued Momota.

The detective had zero self-confidence at the start of the killing game. He wore a hat to shield himself from the watchful gazes of others, choosing to keep his eyes to the ground and speak only when spoken to. Some people liked that (Akamatsu, probably), but Momota personally liked them a little more assertive. Someone willing to challenge his world view, someone who would not be afraid to stand up to him.

As far as Momota knew, Akamatsu and Shuichi woke up in the same classroom and were attached at the hip since then. They shared a bond no one else did in the killing game, and Shuichi had his other half ripped from him just a few days after. He watched as everyone in the trial grounds broke down in tears, too shaken to move or even talk.

(Had Akamatsu lived to escape the prison school, Momota was sure she and Shuichi would start dating. But Momota did not know how to deal with possibilities, he could not compute or calculate what would happen if Akamatsu had lived because it was physically impossible now that she was dead, crushed under the spiked piano cover of her execution, so he pushed the thought out of his head and focused on the present.)

He felt his blood boil in his veins (and rise in his throat, but he forced it down). Akamatsu was dead, and there was nothing they could do about it to bring her back. The fact was that a dead person could not come back to life no matter what. But they were alive, Shuichi was alive and Akamatsu had passed on her last wish to him. Akamatsu had trusted him to continue what she started, but all he was doing was wallowing in self-pity.

Momota could not resist. He punched Shuichi square in the face and yelled at him, hoping it would knock some sense into the shy boy.

To Momota's surprise, his pep talk worked. When Momota went to wake Shuichi up in the morning the next day, he was not wearing his hat. Momota did not comment on the change and brought Shuichi to the dining hall, pretending to be surprised when everyone else looked at Shuichi like he grew a second head. To be honest, he did not get what the big fuss was about. He was just glad that Shuichi had stopped moping and gotten himself together.

And gotten himself together he did. Shuichi showed his talent as the Ultimate Detective by solving puzzles and unlocking new areas for them to explore, and carrying them through class trials by being one of the two people willing to examine a dead body. The other boy had skills that were useful in the killing game. As a detective, he was able to piece together the entire story of the murders that happened. He made sure they found the truth during class trials, making sure that everyone survived and only the blackened was executed. 

As much as it pained him to admit it, Momota was jealous of Shuichi. Despite how much Momota valued communication as a skill, he realized that the others did not. His attempts to bring them together always resulted in some kind of falling out, leaving Shuichi with dead bodies and class trials to solve. He always left Shuichi with a mess to clean up, and he hated it. He was Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars. He refused to be a burden to anyone.

* * *

Momota lay in bed one night, thinking about his two closest associates. 

Both of them, by nature of their professions, should not have been friends. As an assassin, Harumaki was responsible for killing and as a detective, Shuichi had to find the person responsible. Yet through this killing game (and Momota), they became friends.

Hopefully without him, they would still be able to rely on each other for emotional support. Both of them were still rather emotionally stunted so Momota had to stay alive until he was sure they were able to cope without him, but he knew they would get there eventually. Maybe then, he could end it himself.

Momota was no fool. He did not have this disease when he went through his medical check-ups, that meant the disease was introduced to him at the start of the killing game. Whatever disease Monokuma implanted into him was killing him slowly. He had little time left.

He thought about Amami, who never got to know his Ultimate talent. He thought about Akamatsu, whose intentions were good but her actions were ultimately disastrous, leading to an unnecessary death and the start of the killing game.

He thought about Hoshi, who harbored immense guilt for his past sins. He thought about Tojo, who mothered their entire group and taught him how to to wash the blood off his clothes and sheets.

He thought of Angie, how he never stood for her student council or religion but respected her ability to lead. He thought of Chabashira, who hated men but always stood up to protect the weak no matter what gender they were. He thought of Shinguji, his twisted love for his sister leading him to be a slave to her desires.

He thought of Iruma, her crass words and attitude outweighed by her intelligence and knowledge of engineering. He thought of Gonta, his kind heart and soul strengthened by his desire to protect everyone no matter the cost.

He conjured up the image of their dead bodies. Battered, beaten, bloody, bruised.

He refused to die like them. 

* * *

Ouma... well, no one liked Ouma. The most people did was tolerate him, and even that was a stretch to say. Momota was no exception.

While everyone seemed to be struggling in the killing game, Ouma seemed to thrive. He was the kind of person who provoked people just because he could; his entire existence revolved around chaos and mischief and manipulation and Momota hated it. 

But Ouma did exactly that. He used his small stature to his advantage, allowing people to let their guards around him before grasping their hearts in his hands and ripping them out. He laid upon lie after lie when he spoke, weaving a story so convoluted that even Momota could not tell heads or tails from what was presented to him. He presented a cheerful, carefree facade to everyone, but Momota had experience in reading people. He knew it was a lie.

Surprisingly, Momota did not have much of a problem with the lying. He recognized lying as a necessity at times; white lies and lies to be kind were good examples. Lying should only be used when there was no other option, it should only be used when the benefits outweigh the costs. Momota himself lied constantly; he lied to himself, telling himself that he would make it out of the killing game and be the first person to find aliens and communicate with them successfully. He lied to himself that his illness was a minor one and that he would live to see space one day. He lied that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to confess to Harumaki one day and tell her how he really felt about her and maybe introduce her to his grandparents when they got out. He lied a lot, just like Ouma, and they were both paradoxically honest about their lies.

However, Ouma used his ability to lie to manipulate those around him. His firm belief in the importance of communication put him at odds with Ouma's constant manipulation. Momota believed that if he wanted something from someone, he had to ask. If they said no, that was the end of the story. He did not like twisting people's hearts just to get what he wanted, but that was exactly what Ouma did. And he looked like he enjoyed every second of it.

That was why he was enraged when Shuichi picked Ouma's side in the fourth class trial. Logically, he knew that Shuichi was just doing what a detective should do: uncover the truth. Emotionally, he felt betrayed that Shuichi was playing right into Ouma's hands. Ouma manipulated the class trial to go exactly the way he wanted to, and he pulled Shuichi along to dance to his tune. He hated, _hated_ that Ouma and Shuichi were right in their deductions, but he hated himself more for feeling that way.

After Gonta's execution, he caught sight of Ouma's face. To his surprise, the boy was shedding real tears.

He wanted to lecture Ouma, to yell and him and put him in his place. He wanted to tell Ouma off for manipulating Gonta into killing Iruma, then having the guts to feel guilt over Gonta's death. But his illness caused him to move slower, letting Ouma sidestep him with much ease. He could only grit his teeth as Ouma taunted him with a (false) grin on his face, declaring that he was the villain of the killing game.

He played the role of villain to a T. He threatened to kill all but one of them, gave them the Electrohammers to clear the Death Road of Despair and crushed their hopes of leaving the prison school. His every expression was schooled to give off an overwhelming malicious aura, but Momota thought about his actions logically.

If he were the ringleader, he would not need to commission Iruma to make Electrohammers or Electrobombs; he could just get someone outside the killing game to make them. After all, there were Monokuma, the Monokubs and the Exisals; advanced humanoid robots capable of intelligence AI and giant pilotable machines meant to keep everyone in line. But he remembered that he was wrong about Akamatsu and Tojo and so many other people, and they were all dead now that they had subverted his expectations. He kept his true feelings to himself and rushed at Ouma, surprised when an Exisal reached out to grab him by the legs.

Momota was sure Ouma deliberately chose him to kidnap not because of his illness but because it was _Ouma_. Every single thing the small boy did was planned meticulously, planned ten steps ahead of everyone so that he could stay ahead in this game of life and death. The little prick was planning something, he wanted to involve Momota, and Momota was determined to find out exactly what Ouma wanted from him.

* * *

Momota's eyes were wide open but he could not see. He crawled on the floor, hands searching desperately for the rim of the toilet. When he found it, he hauled himself over and vomited violently into it. Though he could not see, he knew from the metallic taste that he was vomiting blood. He slumped over the toilet, too tired to pull himself away.

He clenched his fists tightly and gritted his teeth.  _Not like this, not like this._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time someone kudos/comments/subscribes to this fic I feel guilt because I was supposed to post this more than a week ago. I am sorry. Here you are.

~~~~After Tojo had been executed, Momota went to the dining hall and grabbed a bottle of vinegar and a few lemons. He told himself that he would keep it in his room just in case he needed to wash the blood off his clothes, but he ended up pouring the vinegar into a glass and squeezing an entire lemon with it. If it could get bloodstains out of clothes, maybe it could wash away the lingering taste of blood at the back of his throat. He took a sip. _Gross_ , he thought, but he had finished the entire bottle that night. 

Logically, he knew that it was impossible. As long as he had this illness, the blood would keep coming back. There was nothing scientific about home remedies and nothing logical about using a bunch of kitchen ingredients to cure a complex and terminal illness. But nothing about the situation they were in was logical. 

For the Gofer Project to succeed, they would have needed to be put in some sort of cryostasis before sending them off. However, cryostasis itself was currently impossible. He had read the latest papers on the probability of sending humans off to space in cold sleep to repopulate on a new planet, and they were at least half a century away from achieving that goal. Last time Momota checked, he was not fifty years older.

The Gofer Project itself made no sense as well. Kiibo was a robot; he could not help humanity repopulate. Chabashira was rather obviously a lesbian and would kick any man who tried to get frisky with her, let alone let them bear a child. Shinguji killed women he found attractive, he would probably have murdered someone even if the Gofer Project went smoothly and there was no killing game. Do not even get him started on Ouma.

Besides, why did the Ultimate Initiative select them for their talents? Momota could understand selecting Hoshi, Chabashira, Gonta, Harumaki and himself; they were physically fit and would contribute to the gene pool. (At least, he would have been physically fit had Monokuma infected him with some unknown disease.) He could understand Tojo, Iruma, Kiibo and Shuichi being selected too; their talents had skills that would allow them to survive and adapt to a new environment. Shinguji had experience traveling all over the world too, he would be able to use that experience to adapt, even if the Gofer Project people did not catch him being a serial killer at first. Akamatsu, Angie, Shirogane and Yumeno was a bit of a stretch; their talents were related to the arts, but maybe the Gofer Project wanted to ensure the survival of humanity's culture as well? He discounted Ouma, who was probably lying about his talent (what kind of stupid talent was Supreme Leader?) and Amami, who did not even remember his talent.

The Ultimate Initiative scouted many people with talents. They were not the only people with Ultimate talents, there were many people who could take their place. And of all the people, they chose a robot, a serial killer, a lesbian, an amnesiac and _Ouma_ to be a part of the Gofer Project? That made no sense.

Things that Momota could not predict with a 95% confidence interval were things that scared him. The unknown scared him. That was why he was afraid of ghosts and the occult; they could not be proven so they logically should not exist, but they could not be disproven either. 

But there were so many things that could not be calculated. Friendships, for example. Friendships could not be reduced to numbers and formulas and memorization, but it was a good thing all the same. Momota used to be so scared of forming bonds because he was never sure how the other person would react, but he realized if he made himself more relatable by pretending to be dumber than he was, people tended to like him more. There were still some people who he never clicked with (Ouma came to mind) but at least he was not completely friendless.

As much of astronaut training relied on statistics and hard facts, it also taught him to take a chance. It taught him how to examine the possibilities and take the one that had the best shot at working. A senior of him once quoted, _Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth._ But what if all the possibilities were impossible no matter how much he tried to look at them?

* * *

Stuck in the Exisal hangar, Momota wished he had something to wash the taste of blood away from his mouth. Water helped a little bit, but now his phlegm was mixed with blood and perpetually stuck to the back of his throat. He considered asking Ouma to bring back some vinegar and lemons, but he chased that thought away from his mind.

He used brute force to wash the blood off his clothes now. It was not as if he had anything else to do.

* * *

Ouma walked into the bathroom and saw Momota sitting on the floor topless, leaving his shirt and jacket out to air dry. He tossed a protein bar to Momota, who caught it with ease. "You could have just asked for a change of clothes, you know," he said.

Momota scowled. "Like hell I'll rely on a bastard like you." Not only did Momota not want to rely on Ouma, he did not want to show his weakness to the other boy and admit that he was sicker than he let on. Weakness had no place in the killing game.

"Eh? But Momota-chan has been relying on me for food for the past few days," Ouma pouted.

"Then don't feed me," Momota grumbled. Not that he cared, considering that his days were numbered anyway. Besides... "You need me for some master plan, so you're going to feed me anyway."

Ouma cocked his head, the very image of innocence. "Hmm? I don't expect anything from you, Momota-chan."

Momota finally snapped. "You brought me here for a reason. What do you want from me?!"

He was sick of Ouma dancing around and not being straightforward. He did not understand why Ouma had to play at being the villain to get what he wanted instead of just telling them directly. If the other boy had been straight with what he wanted instead of finding indirect means to get what he wanted, Momota would have gladly helped him. 

He wanted Ouma to be the ringleader so badly because it made more sense than Yumeno, Shirogane, Kiibo, Saihara or even Harumaki being the ringleader. But at the same time, with the current evidence, Ouma of all people had been ruled out as the ringleader.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. So what was the truth, if Ouma was not the ringleader?

"Who knows?" Ouma chirped happily. 

Momota gritted his teeth as he watched Ouma lock him in the bathroom again. He should have asked Saihara to bring him a weapon, but he had been too caught up in the moment to remember. The next time someone came along, he was asking them to bring him a crossbow from Harumaki's lab. He would get out of Ouma's clutches and return to Shuichi and Harumaki with his own strength. He would not let himself rely on them any longer.

* * *

"I thought you were going to crush me for a second," Momota said as he slipped out from underneath the press. He left his jacket behind as per Ouma's instructions and stood up.

"I'm done with lying," Ouma said. He hopped down from the control panel and landed nimbly on his feet in front of Momota, then started unbuttoning his clothes.

Momota stared. "Wha- why are you stripping?"

Ouma rolled his eyes. "Monokuma will be able to tell who the victim is by their clothes." He folded his clothes neatly and handed them to Momota. "Take these and- I don't know, flush them down the toilet or something. Just make sure it looks like you tried to hide it."

Momota looked away to give Ouma a modicum of privacy as the smaller boy took off his underwear and slipped under the hydraulic press. Strange that the other boy's boxers were brightly colored, unlike the rest of his outfit which was monochrome. He vaguely wondered if there was any hidden meaning behind that. Knowing Ouma, there probably was.

"Speaking of clothes, I brought you a spare change of clothes. They're near the door."

So Ouma actually snuck back all the way to the dorms and stole Momota a change of clothes, even though Momota did not ask.  _I'm sorry,_ he wanted to say, but that seemed like it was too little, too late. _You didn't have to,_ but he already did. So Momota settled on, "Thank you," and hoped it was enough.

Once Momota was at the control panel, he hesitated. "Hey, are you sure?"

"Yes," Ouma said. His voice was muffled, blocked by the hydraulic press.

"Do you even know how hydraulic presses work? They don't- It doesn't come down fast. It's slow," Momota countered. 

Momota had seen hydraulic presses crush large, heavy equipment back at the training facility at JAXA. The press was made to apply a constant force to make scrap metal out of machines. When the press met the item it was supposed to crush, it slowed down. The constant pressure meant that the press would come down even slower than it did without any objects slowing it down.

The human body was not as durable as metal and engineering that was made to last, but the press would apply that same amount of pressure anyway.  _It will be a slow and painful death_ , he wanted to say, but even if he did not say the words out loud he knew Ouma understood.

"I didn't waste my last Electrobomb for you to not kill me by the press," Ouma deadpanned.

"Look, there has to be another way, you don't have to do it-"

"I should have died."

"Huh?" That was not the response Momota had been expecting. 

Ouma sighed dramatically. "Iruma Miu, the Ultimate Inventor. Gokuhara Gonta, the Ultimate Entomologist. They didn't deserve to die, right? They deserve retribution."

"What are you saying?" Momota spluttered, trying to find the right words to say. Yes, they died, but they were dead and none of them could change that now. Ouma dying was not going to bring them back from the grave. "Even if they didn't deserve to die, that doesn't mean you should die-"

"You promised me, Momota-chan. We'll ruin the killing game together. Were you lying?"

Momota swallowed. "I- maybe I can kill you by stabbing you or blunt force trauma or something. You don't have to die by the press-"

"No, it has to be this way," Ouma said.

Before this, Momota would have never thought Ouma would be capable of feeling guilt. But here he was, under the hydraulic press, demanding to be killed in the slowest and most drawn out way possible. No one, not even Ouma, deserved that kind of ending.

Swiftly, he ran back to the bathroom to grab the screwdriver that came with the crossbow and returned back to the control panel. He bent down and unscrewed the panel, quickly scanning the structure and wiring of the panel. There was no option to change the pressure of the hydraulic press on the control panel, but Momota could rewire it to make it apply more pressure and descend faster. If Ouma was going to die, then Momota would make sure that he died as fast as possible.

"Please, Momota-chan." Ouma's voice was pleading, unsteady. "Do it."

Momota could not see Ouma where he was, but he could imagine what Ouma looked like. Naked, bleeding from the two arrow holes in his arm and back, bleeding from his mouth because the poison circulating in his system would claim him any minute now. Hands trembling, partly from the poison but partly from fear of his imminent death. An offscreen death, away from the spotlight where he laughed and danced and pulled on everyone's strings like a puppeteer.

A cruel execution befitting the Ultimate Supreme Leader, Ouma Kokichi.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but it would not change the fact that Ouma was going to die. No amount of apologies would change the fact that he was about to become Ouma Kokichi's murderer, that he would have blood on his hands, that he would follow Ouma soon-

Momota squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the buttons simultaneously. He thought he heard Ouma whimper once, but the sound of the hydraulic press drowned out the rest of his cries.

* * *

Everyone had a tendency of underestimating Momota.

He knew that. Ouma knew that. By now, Monokuma should know that. Everyone, including Shuichi, assumed that Ouma was in the Exisal because they believed Momota would not be capable of impersonating Ouma. They believed he was not capable of such trickery, such maliciousness. They were wrong.

Before the trial, Momota studied the lines Ouma wrote for himself. He memorized them like he would Russian and English, breaking down Ouma's words into a formula and restructuring it until it sounded like something Ouma would say. He memorized most of the lines until he could read them off without looking at the book, so that he could better understand the boy he killed.

At least, that was what he did when he was not vomiting blood.

He realized that, when brought down to its basic elements, Ouma's words all had one intention - to mislead. Everything he did was meant to throw people off his trail, to make sure no one caught on to his true intentions. He weaved lies and dodged the truth because the truth was that he was scared, lost and hurt, and having emotions in the killing game was weakness and weakness was not tolerated in the Ultimate Academy of Gifted Juveniles.

As Momota studied the text Ouma left behind, he realized that Ouma never had any bad intentions in his lying. Despite his ability to manipulate people with his lies, he was infinitely horrible at forming true, lasting connections with other people. He wanted so hard to reach out to everyone and befriend them, but with the killing game, with no one to trust, he was left with seemingly no choice but to manipulate everyone to protect himself. Had they not been in the killing game, Ouma would have been a different person. He would have been a little shit, true, but he would not be the villain everyone made him out to be. 

Momota laughed hollowly. He had finally found someone other than Shuichi and Harumaki who was willing to communicate, and he had killed them with his bare hands.

* * *

The logical part of his mind told him that there was only one path ahead of him and that he would not want anyone to walk that path with him. At least, not yet. Death was an inevitability for all of them, but they were all so young. They deserved to make mistakes, find love, do all the things that he and Akamatsu and Tojo and Ouma and everyone else could not. He would never go to space and walk on the moon or see his grandparents again or show them their grandchildren should they ever have been born, but that was fine. He had already lived his life to the fullest; had a proper childhood, studied hard to fulfill his dreams, loved and lost.

Harumaki never had that. She had her childhood ripped away from her, forced to murder people for a living even though she hated it. But Harumaki was also alive. She would have an endless number of possibilities to live her life, an endless number of roads to walk and an endless number of people to meet. 

Momota would never live to see those possibilities, or to see if he had a place in her life. That was fine. He had chosen this. He was-

_Going to space. Being in zero gravity with his seniors and fellow trainees, returning to Earth when he had accomplished something with his life. Proposing to Harumaki on one knee, getting Shuichi to be his best man at their wedding. Akamatsu and Tojo and Ouma and everyone else would be there too, sharing their happiness and more importantly they would be alive. Showing his grandparents their grandchildren, a son to carry on the Momota family name. Akamatsu and Shuichi would be married too, Shuichi deserved a happy end-_

But Ouma would have screamed, _screamed_ , as the press came down and crushed his lungs and organs and splattered his brains all over, had he not been in that much pain-

Momota closed his eyes and smiled. He had no regrets, he told himself repeatedly. He had no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's join the rest of the ten thousand chapter 5 fics out there yay
> 
> I see Momota as a person who has book smarts but not street smarts. I'm very salty that Spike Chunsoft decided to make him some kind of idiot in canon. The only mention you get of his intelligence is the FTE with Saihara where he states he can speak Japanese, English and Russian but that is NOT ENOUGH?!?!?!
> 
> I also see him as the kind of person who wants to start a family someday. I don't know, it just seems very him? He seems like he'd be a good dad. I also headcanon Momota as straight because of this. I know we're all somewhere on the Kinsey Scale (coughLoveHotelcough) but I still believe he's more attracted to women than men. Needless to say this is all conjecture and everyone is free to ship whoever they want.
> 
> Why'd the press come down faster in the second half of the murder video? Logically, for censorship. If it was in real life, Ouma would've screamed all the way while the press was crushing him because the press would've taken its own sweet time descending. But there were no screams in the video, only the sound of the hydraulic press. So. This is what _could_ have happened.
> 
> The initial version of this fic was Ouma screaming all the way while the press crushed him until he physically could not scream, then Momota lamenting that he could still hear Ouma's cries and probably would to the day of his death, which would be soon because he would be executed, but like. That didn't line up with what happened in canon. So. This happened instead. I still like the first version better but oh well, 'canon compliant' compels.


End file.
